Archetype of War
by Butcher-Bird190
Summary: A child of Ares with power matching demigods of the Big 3. Unmatchable in a head-on fight, he can bind his soul to machines of war and use them to crush his enemies with ruthless efficiency. Though he does not know it yet, he is part of a prophecy that will change either change Demigod world for the better, or plunge it into endless chaos.
1. Rule The Sea

Rule The Sea

Chiron's hooves clopped around nervously on the wooden floor paneling of the big house. Prophecies were never good, but this latest one had been especially disturbing. A child of Zeus or perhaps Poseidon was sure to make waves (both literal and figurative) for the demigod world, but a child of Ares...

The Oracle of Delphi had stated that this child wielded tremendous power, and yet it was somehow different from the kind of power wielded by any demigod before him. What this power was, Chiron could not even begin to guess.

~o~

Rain rolled off the tarmac in glistening sheets. The full moon cast dancing shadows across the scrapyard as the 10-story tall masts of derelict war machines danced with the waves. The groan of rusting steel punctuated the silence of the night. Droplets of water slid off his slick hair as he walked around in a trance-like state, his right hand extended in front of him as if he was searching for something that he had been trying to find for a long time. He wandered for hours, the bitter cold and wet soaking him to his core. Yet he did not falter, for his meandering path along the docks was slowly but surely taking him towards his goal.

For years the monsters had tormented him, chasing him through the dark city streets and lush evergreen forests of the North. Tonight that would change, he knew it in his heart. It had called out to him weeks ago, and he had responded by crossing the vast expanses of wilderness on foot. Now, he was almost upon it, the warmth of it's essence drawing him close like a moth to flame. He stopped and opened his eyes.

Looming above him was a giant steel mass. Lightening flashed, and he could see the distinct outline of cannons pointed towards the sky to fire at enemy aircraft that no longer existed. He squinted, and the faded print on the side of the ship's hull became clear: CA-141, a nearly complete but cancelled Des Moines class heavy cruiser left to rot in this ship graveyard for decades. He reached out to touch it.

Images of war flashed through his mind as his body fell limp on the dock. He felt the ship's spirit intertwine with his own. Anger coursed through his veins as he became one with the ship. It had wanted nothing more but to fulfill the purpose for what it was built: to fight. And yet it never got a chance, forced to watch itself rust into obsolescence as the years rolled on. However, it would be given a new life by him, a chance to finally fire its guns in anger and obliterate its enemies into nothingness. He felt part of his soul rip away from him and imbue itself into the cold metal. Then, darkness.

He awoke to an unfamiliar scene. Giant panes of thick armored glass let the golden light of the morning sun stream into room. Control consoles of various types were scattered about, but only one thing caught his eye. In the middle of the room mounted upon a pyramid of solid metal lay a majestic wheel of stainless steel. Then it hit him: he was on the bridge. He took a moment to admire the beauty of his surroundings. There was a certain aspect of military neatness about the room that triggered an emotion that he had not felt for many years. It felt like he was at home.

Fueled by the very spirit of war itself, the engines hummed to life with spectral power. The boilers hissed and cranked out an sea-splitting 120,000 shaft horsepower. The heavy cruiser inched away from its mooring, the shackles that had held it prisoner there for nearly half a century mysteriously gone. A series of whirs and clicks echoed through the ship as the formidable 8-inch primary battery of the _Des Moines_ loaded itself and returned to firing position of its own accord, as if serviced and crewed by apparitions of those who had died fighting many years ago.

He was scared at first, but as the rusted brown hulks of the scrapyard gave way to the magnificent blue of the open ocean, he realized that the ship had become a vessel for his soul.

It would do his bidding.

~o~

Next chapter: Rule The Sky


	2. Into The Storm

Three days.

It had been three days since his soul had been mysteriously bound to a towering Des Moines class heavy gun cruiser. In that time, the dark image of an anchor had emblazoned itself like a tattoo on his left forearm.

Adam. Yes, that was his name. It had been so long since anyone had spoken it aloud that he himself had almost forgotten. His life was one of solitude and pain. Born to parents that had been washed from his memory, he had wandered the world alone. He knew not why the monsters would attack him, but they seemed to be invisible to anyone else. It was almost as if a giant sign saying "eat me" was constantly hovering over his head.

Without warning, a chill went down Adam's spine. That meant danger. Despite being deep within the armored citadel of the mighty warship, he was somehow distinctly aware of the surrounding ocean and airspace. It was like his brain was plugged into the ship's powerful sensor suite. He closed his eyes and listened. At first, all he heard was the faint humming of the long-range radar and the distant pinging of the sonar sweep, but then a message rang in loud and clear.

 _Unidentified object bearing two points off starboard bow. Relative airspeed 167 knots at 2,000 feet elevation. Estimate 30 feet in length._

It was a monster, larger than any one Adam had ever faced before. Just a few days ago, this knowledge would have Adam fearing for his life, but not now. The power of the warship coursed through his veins and instilled in him a kind of steadfast confidence that he had never had. As the monster edged ever close towards him, Adam felt the sudden urge to close his eyes. He complied, and in an instant, he was 80 feet above the water atop the fire control system tower of the _Des Moines._ Well, he wasn't _really_ there, as he looked down and realized that he didn't have a physical body. He figured that his soul was simply moving around to the parts of the warship that needed the most attention for the given situation.

A magnificent roar shattered the relative calm of the seas, and Adam turned his disembodied view towards it. A tiny speck on the horizon was all that he could make out at first, but then his view shifted. He was now looking out the sight of one of the ship's 8-inch primary guns. With a few whirs and clicks, his view magnified a hundred fold and he saw the monster for what it was. Shining bright green and covered with large iridescent from snout to tail, it suspended itself in the air with leathery wings. It's chest and mouth glowed with an intense heat that illuminated the air with a dull orange light. Adam looked into the beast's cold reptilian eyes. It had the eyes of a killer.

The beast put on an impressive burst of speed, and within a few moments it had gotten uncomfortably close to Adam's ship. He needed to act, and quick.

 _Set course to bearing 5 points off starboard quarter._

 _Flank speed, 4 boilers hot._

 _127mm DP guns load airburst. Set fuses to 1.12 seconds (2,000 feet)._

 _20mm and 40mm cannons, load AP-TI._

 _Prepare to engage target._

Dull thuds and clicks resonated through the ship's hull as it dutifully obeyed Adam's commands, and not a moment too soon because the monster had flown itself directly above the ship and had begun a dive straight down.

Adam's view switched back once again to the fire control director. As the monster dove closer and closer, Adam could sense it approaching the ship's optimal anti-aircraft engagement distance. When it breached that threshold, Adam would open fire.

300 feet... 200 feet... 100 feet... now!

All twelve of the ship's 127mm DP guns sent up a veritable wall of flak, and although none of the shells even came close to scoring a direct hit, the set fuse distance had perfectly lined up with the timing of the shot, and as a result, the dragon's wings had been raked with hot shrapnel. It roared in pain as it entered an uncontrolled spin towards the ship below. It was now within range of the ship's short range AA.

A cacophony of dull thumps and high pitched cracks filled the air as the ship's complement of machine guns and cannons opened up on the monster in unison. Tracer fire cut through the air, lines of bright red and yellow streaks racing through the sky. The monster stood no chance. Armor piercing shells the size of footballs cut through its tough scales like paper mache while the burning phosphorus coating of the incendiary rounds seared the monster's flesh.

 _127mm DP guns reloaded. Firing second salvo._

A series of booms rocked the ship as the flak batteries opened up again. This time one the high explosive shells impacted the monster directly and stuck in its flesh for a moment before violently detonating. The ensuing explosion covered the decks of the _Des Moines_ with gore, and a fine red mist rained down upon the ocean surrounding the ship.

With a gasp, Adam found himself once again within the same room he had been in before the battle had started. He was out of breath, but unharmed. That was something that would take a while to get used to.

Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion hit him like a fright train and he dropped to his knees, the anchor tattoo on his arm burning a bright white. Adam lay on the cold steel floor of the Des Moines, his consciousness rapidly fading.

 _It's going to need a name_ he thought.

A voice, different from the one that the ship used to communicate with him, rang clear within Adam's head.

 _"Theras, meaning 'the beast' in ancient Greek. A fitting name indeed."_

"Theras" whispered Adam weakly before finally collapsing.


End file.
